Monday, November 9, 2015

Getting Our Affairs in Order

Shame on us, really, because we should have done this years ago. Along with finishing Quinn's baby book and organizing our family photos. See, also: throwing away leftover Halloween candy, drinking more water, and stepping up my cardio game.

But with the death of both of Chris's parents in the last few years (his mom just this summer), not to mention my string of luck health-wise in 2011, 2012, and 2013, it became more and more clear we needed to have our affairs in order. It sounds so final, to "get your affairs in order," but really, it's just the smart thing to do. I'm not planning on dying anytime soon, but you never know. That proverbial bus seems to be all over the place these days.

Also, I'm a lawyer. I know it's important to have an estate plan, if only to keep the courts out of things at the end of your life. Lord knows I don't want some Arizona probate court deciding what becomes of this guy, god forbid and fingers crossed and knock on wood. 

So we met with an attorney, who will draft a plan for us and set things up so that Quinn will be okay even if Chris and I both get hit by a bus. 

I held myself together through the meeting, despite having to talk about what happens if Chris (or I) remarries, who makes decisions if one of us is on life-support, who would get custody of Quinn, and whether you can legally enforce requests for certain included elements at a memorial service, such as the singing of "Ave Maria." (I think this last one was Chris's attempt to lighten the mood. I was trying not to choke on the knot growing at the back of my throat.) 

I know in lots of ways these are first-world problems. We have a house, we are educated and have a college fund for our son, and we have family to care for him should something happen to both of us, which is admittedly unlikely. But something about incurable cancer and making very concrete plans for the end of your life and having scans in two weeks came together to have me ugly crying in my husband's arms this weekend, asking him who would remember snack days at school for Quinn, or register him for soccer and swimming (and make sure he gets to both), or put notes in his lunch telling him how much he is loved? And would he remember that I'd done any of these things for him? Would he remember me? 

Oh, yes, I went there. 

My death is not imminent, I don't think. I am getting to be Quinn's mom, which has made me the luckiest person on the planet these last four-and-a-half years. Mostly, things are pretty good here. Other than cancer, I can't complain! Which is along the lines of the question, "Otherwise, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"

But, oh, can mortality be a terrifying thing. 


  1. I can completely relate to this - I even used the Mrs Lincoln quote last week! It's so hard to think of these things, but when you have to, I think it's ok if you allow yourself a few minutes of despair after holding it together the whole time. Dammit, once in a while it gets overwhelming. Thinking of you and hoping your scans go smoothly & great.

  2. This is such an important topic and one I've been avoiding, for some reason. Eventually, I will have to focus on my will, and the sooner the better so I won't have to think about it anymore (sounds overwhelming enough!).

    I have a question for you, since you are a lawyer, do you have any tips or recommendations on how I should approach this? I don't own much but it is important for me that my wishes are respected. Who do I involve to make the documentation legal and the process as smoothly as possible? Any sources you can recommend would be helpful.

    Your son is so cute! I wish you well, always. xx

  3. There are circumstances where I look around and wonder where the adult in the room is and making a will is one of those. As much as it stinks to contemplate one's mortality, making a will got my husband and I talking about some important things. Good for you for getting it out of the way and now you don't need to worry about it!

  4. I have been doing a bit of the same. Mortality is a terrifying thing and I am sorry you had the ugly cry :( It sucks to admit the reality of the situation sometimes, but now you have this taken care of and it won't be bugging you in the back of your mind. A little peace of mind-ish I hope (in the long run). (((Hugs))) Good luck on those upcoming scans!